


Werewolf 101

by nikkithedead



Category: halemore - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Werewolf Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkithedead/pseuds/nikkithedead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he leaves for London, Derek gives Jackson the Werewolf 101. Jackson decides to take advantage of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Werewolf for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the end of season 2, and ignoring the existence of the Alpha Pack

The smell of ash was everywhere. In the air, blanketing the ground and in Jackson's lungs as he awoke with a gasp. He choked and sputtered, coughing the ash back out. He could hear the beat of his heart, loud and fast, as he looked frantically around trying to figure out where he was. His eyes took in blackened walls and burnt furniture, broken mirrors... ash, covering all of it. It drifted lazily through the air, glinting like dark snowflakes in the morning sun. Jackson breathed in again, coughed out more ash, and sat up. At least he knew where he was. Now he just needed to figure out how the hell he'd gotten to the Hale house. And why he was in his boxers...

Walking halfway across town, mostly naked, was not fun. People stared. A few children waiting at a bus stop laughed. Jackson turned and growled at them, his eyes bright blue. That shut them up.

He walked faster after that, sure that at any moment Allison's Dad was going to come charging down the street with a cross-bow, ready to put him down for good. He told himself there was no way anyone who'd seen him could have told anyone so quickly, but the paranoid panic in his chest seemed to disagree. He hoped that if Mr. Argent did come after him, he was a more effective killer than Derek.

* * *

Jackson stayed home from school, just as he had almost every day that week. He'd gone on Monday, for a short period of time. His parents had told him they understood if he didn't want to, but he'd thought he'd be able to handle the staring and whispering better than he'd be able to handle being stuck in his house all day.

He had been wrong. Apparently, coming back from the dead was a big deal. Even the teachers stared at him, and whispered. Mr. Harris wouldn't stop asking him if he needed anything (and he hadn't even been in his  _class_ ). Jackson had only been able to take it for one period, and then he'd gotten out of there.

He had no intention of going back.

The day dragged by slowly, like it had every other day of the week. The difference was, this time Jackson didn't mind it. In fact, he wished it would drag even more. He wished that time would somehow slow down and stretch out forever, so that it would never hit four o'clock, and he would never have to make his make his way downtown to the crumby little hole in the ground that Derek had made his base of operations and start his so-called "training."

It wasn't that he thought he didn't need it. It was just that he didn't care.

He didn't want to be here anymore.

* * *

Jackson was late for training on purpose. He'd thought purposefully taking his time would give him a sense of satisfaction, maybe let him feel like he had an ounce of control over the situation he was in, but as trudged down the back alley that led to Derek's basement, he just felt childish.

He wasn't given much time to dwell on that feeling, however, as the moment he pulled open the basement door somebody grabbed him and hurled him over the railing. A yelp caught in his throat as he fell, and then landed with a painful smack face down against the hard concrete floor.

Jackson groaned. It felt like every one of his ribs was broken, and both his wrists as he'd instinctively put his hands out to break his fall (it seemed it had turned out the other way around). He heard foot steps walk up next to him, but before he could even think to move someone grabbed his left arm and wrenched it back behind him. It felt as though the few unbroken bones left in the arm were about to be cracked. He struggled against the ground, until he caught Derek's scent. Then he struggled harder.

"Lesson number one," Derek said, somewhere close to Jackson's ear. "You are not invincible." Jackson gritted his teeth, and felt them growing into fangs. They retracted a moment later when Derek gave his arm a few more yanks and broke it in two places. Jackson screamed and clutched his arm to his chest once Derek had gotten off of him. Derek stared down at him, a neutral expression on his face. "You are not invulnerable. You can be killed—"

"Yeah I  _know_ that, you fucking psycho," Jackson shouted up at him. He could already feel his bones knitting themselves back together, but the pain was still blinding. "Or did you forget already?"

Derek shook his head. He stepped forward and put his foot on Jackson's chest, pinning him back around the ground. Jackson bared his teeth. "No, Jackson, I did not forget," Derek said, grinding his boot into Jackson's chest. "I remember that you died. Twice." Derek raised his eyebrows. "I also remember that both times, you came back to life." He removed his boot heel, and Jackson quickly staggered up to his feet, grimacing in pain. "Now I'm here to remind  _you_ that that will not happen a third time."

"Promise?" Jackson mumbled, hunching over and still cradling his broken arm.

Derek's eyes flashed. "Do you think this is a game?" He demanded. "You're leaving for London in  _two months._  That means I only have _8_   _weeks_ to teach how to control yourself, and hone your senses. To teach you how to  _survive._ " Derek raised his eyebrows again. "So now might be a good time to start taking this seriously."

Jackson ground his teeth together. " _Fine,_ " He spat. "What's lesson number two?"

* * *

Jackson was sure it would surprise no one to find out that Derek was a terrible teacher. His methods involved shouting and scowling, never explaining anything properly and acting as though Jackson not immediately picking everything up was a certain guarantee of his imminent death. When Jackson failed to do as he'd been instructed to, at best he received an angry rant about how very important all of this was, and at worst another broken bone.

At first Jackson's lessons began every day at four, until Derek learned that he hadn't been going to school. Then they started at nine AM, and went on until Jackson was physically incapable of doing any more. Derek taught him different fighting manoeuvres and strategies (very,  _very_  basic ones, he stressed). He taught him to focus, how to control the shift and not lose conscious control once he'd changed (and in turn, how to not shift while he was unconscious and wind up running through the woods at night in his boxers—something Jackson had admitted to doing very reluctantly. He still hadn't told him about how he'd awoken in his house).

Once Jackson was able exert some kind of control over his shift (he spent an hour making his eyes glow, then go normal, then glow, then go normal) they turned to his reflexes. Reflex testing, apparently, involved Derek pelting Jackson with baseballs until he was dodging or hitting away nine out of ten (something he was able to do fairly quickly, thanks to his years of athleticism). Surprisingly, Derek seemed pleased with this. Jackson would have expected him to be disappointed.

A week into their training, Derek stood in front of Jackson with his arms folded across a slightly dirty wife-beater. "Now," He said, "Comes the hard part."

Jackson's jaw dropped a little. "You're joking," Derek shook his head. "So all of this has been what, play time?"

"Compared to what we're going to do next, yes,"

Jackson hung his head and groaned. "Please, just kill me," He muttered. He looked glanced up at Derek, who did not look amused. "Just one more time,"

"The five senses," Derek said, ignoring Jackson's plea for mercy. "What are they?"

"Fashion sense, common sense, nonsense, sense of humour—" Derek cut him off with a growl, and Jackson rolled his eyes. "Do you  _seriously_ need to me list the five senses?"

"What I seriously need is for you to give me a straight answer when I ask a question." Derek held up his hand, and raised a finger as he listed the senses. "Sight, taste, hearing, touch and smell—"

"—Yes,  _thank you_ for the pre-school refresher, will we be having recess soon—"

"—But as a werewolf," Derek continued, speaking over Jackson. "You have another one."

"—Oh god don't tell me I can see dead people, that is disgusting—"

Derek growled at him. Not a low, irritated, back-of-the-throat growl, but full on ear splitting  _roar._ The force of it hit Jackson like a brick wall. It felt as though something had reached inside of him and gripped his heart in a claw, wrenched it down and out of him. Jackson found himself stumbling backwards and falling to the ground. He scrambled backwards until he hit one of the basement walls, and pressed himself back against it. His whole body was shaking.

The red faded from Derek's eyes, and he looked at Jackson with an expression he'd never seen on Derek's face before; remorse. He looked upset, and sorry. Jackson figured that meant he must look  _really_ fucking pitiful, shaking on the floor like he was. Derek walked towards him, and he tried to cut it out, and get a grip on himself, but he couldn't.

_What the fuck just happened?_

Derek crouched down in front of him, and placed a hand on Jackson's shoulder. Jackson gave a start, and glanced back and forth between it and Derek's face. "Are you alright?" Derek asked. Jackson just stared at him. "I—I'm sorry, Jackson," Derek looked down, avoiding eye contact. "I shouldn't have done that."

"W-what... what the hell  _was_ that?" Jackson asked. He breathed heavily, but he could feel himself calming down now. Derek's hand on his shoulder felt like it was steadying him, and the shaking sensation slowly left his limbs.

Derek glanced up. "I'm the alpha," He said. He sounded bitter. "You're my beta, which means I have a certain level of... control, over you." Jackson's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't known that. "I promised myself I would never use it, not unless one of you was in danger of hurting yourselves or someone else." Derek looked straight into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I lost my temper. I won't do it again, I promise."

Jackson nodded. "I'm um, sorry too." He said. He continued to hold Derek's gaze, even as almost every part of him wanted to look away. Somehow it just didn't feel like he could. "I should... I should take this seriously."

"Not 'should,'" Derek said. " _Have_ to. You  _have_ to take this seriously. Especially this part." He stood up, and offered his hand to Jackson. Jackson looked at it for a moment, then grasped it and allowed Derek to help him to his feet. "You'll need to use all of your senses to find the alpha,"

Jackson raised his eyebrows, and took a step towards Derek. "Aren't  _you_ the alpha?" He poked his finger against Derek's chest. "Found you,"

Derek gave him a look. "Not me, Jackson. The other alpha, in London,"

"Why would I need to find another alpha?" Jackson asked, furrowing his brow. He didn't like the idea of  _anyone_ having control over him, not after... what had happened... but he  _especially_ didn't want it to be some stranger.

Derek sighed deeply, and took a seat on a nearby crate. "Because if you're going to be living in London, you'll have to join a pack  _in London,_ "

"Why?" Jackson could see Derek tensing up, obviously irritated by all the questions. He wondered if it was the questions themselves that annoyed him, or the fact that Jackson just refused to accept what he said at face value.

"The pack bond isn't based on physical location, it's a mental connection," Derek began. "But the longer you're gone, the harder that connection will be too maintain. The less time you spend with us, the weaker it'll get,"

"No, I meant why do I need to find a new pack?"

Derek rubbed at his brow. "Becauseyou  _do,_  alright?" Jackson opened his mouth to point out that  _'because'_ wasn't a reason, but Derek looked up so sharply that his words got lost in his throat. "If you want a reason, give Scott a call," Derek stood up, and raised his eyebrows. "Ask him what happens to omegas."

* * *

As painful as it had been, being forced by Derek to submit, Jackson was almost glad it had happened. After that, things became easier.

Well, maybe not  _easier_ exactly... but less tense. Derek let up, just a bit, and Jackson tried (just a bit) not to be such an ass. They were both better for it.

Even so, the training itself didn't get any easier. Derek hadn't been kidding when he'd said training his senses would be the hardest part. At first, it seemed fucking impossible. He might have been trying to be nicer, but his teaching skills hadn't improved any. If Jackson had a dollar for every time Derek had snapped  _"You just_ do  _it,"_ by way of explanation, he'd have enough money for his plane ticket to London.

Every now and then he was actually able to offer more than that ( _"Focus, but don't think. Let your mind go blank, and your body take over"_ ) and so very slowly, Jackson was able to get the hang of it. He picked up hearing the fastest, and with Derek's instruction he was able to hone it so well that they could have conversations standing five blocks away from each other as easily as if they were standing in the same room.

Sight and smell were slower going. He could focus enough to strengthen how potently he could smell something, but isolating a particular scent was hard. And if he concentrated too hard on his eyes, he got headaches and couldn't do anymore. That usually led to arguments with Derek about whether or not he really  _couldn't_ do anymore, or just  _wouldn't_  do anymore, which then usually led to spontaneous sparring sessions.

It was after one of these sparring sessions (Derek's terms, Jackson called them  _fights._ Derek would just smile condescendingly at that, as if that was  _cute_ ) that Jackson first caught Derek looking at him.

It was late in the evening, and he'd been training all day. He was aching and sore all over, and he'd been thinking about how great a hot shower was going to feel. He'd stretched his arms up over his head, and winced because apparently some of his bones weren't  _quite_ healed yet... and out of the corner of his eye, he'd seen Derek looking at him. But not just looking him.  _Looking._

Derek had turned away the instant Jackson had caught him, and grumbled something about having things to do so Jackson should get going already, but Jackson knew what he'd seen. He'd been getting looks like that since he was 14 years old, and he knew what they meant.

It's just that Derek Hale was one of the last people he'd ever expected to look at him like that.

* * *

Once that door had been opened, Jackson couldn't stop the thoughts that came rushing through it. It had been surprising to catch Derek looking at him like that, but the more he thought about it, the more he  _liked_ it. And after he started looking back, he realized he liked _that_  too. Derek might have been a grumpy, short-tempered ass, but he was very, very fit.

Jackson decided that since they were spending so much time together, it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a little  _fun._

He started subtly, almost innocently. Whenever he was given a rare break after hours of training, Jackson would lift the hem of his shirt, exposing his abdomen, and use it to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He would tilt his head back and pour water into his mouth, letting just a little bit drip down the corner of his mouth. Then he'd wipe his thumb slowly along the bottom of his lip. And every time without fail, out of the corner of his eye he would see Derek watching him, his mouth slightly opened. Jackson would do his best not to smile.

He upped his game very quickly. It was summer and the weather was warm. Jackson began taking his shirt off whenever possible. He pushed his shorts down to expose to tops of his hip bones, and stretched frequently. Derek began avoiding making eye contact with him.

While Jackson had thought it would be fun to make Derek sweat, he hadn't anticipated exactly  _how_ much he would enjoy it. Suddenly, the tables were turned. Derek was no longer in charge. Jackson was. He felt more confident, more in control than he had in months and months. Almost like his old self.

He was even beginning to  _enjoy_ their training sessions. Exercising his strength, testing his new found senses and agility was exhilarating and empowering. He could climb trees and run at break neck speed, hear someone coming from a mile away. He could see farther and react more quickly than should have been possible. The more he began to enjoy it, the easier it became. Derek had been right, some things were beyond explanation. They just had to be done.

"You're doing really well, Jackson," Derek told him, after another long day of running through the woods, honing his senses. Derek didn't look at him as he spoke, kept his hands in his pockets and in his eyes trained on the ground. "I'm..." Derek broke off, and Jackson raised his eyebrows.

"Proud?" He supplied, stepping into Derek's view.

Derek looked up at him, frowning. "Yeah," He said. "I'm proud,"

Jackson snorted and shook his head. "Do you need a moment? Are you going to be okay? Should I call Deaton, tell him to bring bandages or whatever?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek scooped up Jackson's shirt from where it lay disregarded on the ground. He tossed it to him. "Put your shirt on Jackson, and get going. We're done for today,"

Jackson grinned. "You know, I think I'm good with it off," He said, slinging it over his shoulder. He licked his lips, and looked Derek up and down. "I think you might be, too," He said.

Derek stopped. "What does that mean?"

Jackson shrugged, walking past Derek and grabbing his bag. "Nothing," He said. "See you tomorrow,"

As he walked off, he could feel Derek's eyes on him, watching him leave. He smiled to himself.

* * *

Sleep had been a problem for Jackson, for a while now. He'd always been an anxious sleeper, his dreams full of anxiety and fear. But it had been anxiety about lacrosse, about under-performing. Fear over what people thought of him at school, whether they could see through his carefully constructed facade of confidence and bravado. None of that was anything compared to this.

Memories that had been carefully locked away deep in his mind began to surface in his dreams. Memories of screams and pleas, the sight of faces filled with terror. The feeling of skin ripping under his claws, the taste of hot blood splattering against his scaly lips. Memories of being forced to kill, to obey Matt's sick desires and take the lives of those he felt had wronged him.

Every night Jacksons nightmares would wake him, and every night he would cry over what he had done. He tried to tell himself it hadn't been his fault, that it had been Matt who had made him... but that hardly helped. How could it, when it was his ears their screams echoed in, his hands who had taken their lives. Matt may have pulled the trigger, but Jackson had been his bullet.

He began to go to sleep later and later, doing anything to keep himself awake at night. He watched endless television, browsed the internet and even picked up a book or two. He searched for distractions anywhere he could.

On their own, Jackson's thoughts turned to Derek, and he found he was a convenient distraction. They were spending all their time together now, and Jackson was having a lot of fun toying with him. There was a lot to think about, in regards to Derek. It was strange to realize, but he knew so little about him. Did Derek have a job? He didn't think so. Before he'd begun to train Jackson, what had he done with his time? He pictured Derek sitting in his loft, spending countless hours staring angrily at the wall before it eventually gave in and crumpled under the sheer intensity of his gaze.

Did Derek have a favourite colour, Jackson wondered. Did he listen to music, or watch television? Somehow Jackson couldn't really imagine any of these things. Derek was too impossibly stoic, in his mind, for things like music, television and colour. Derek was strictly a black, white and grey person, he was sure.

He wondered what it would be like to have Derek touch him. Not punch or grab him, which had thus far been their only means of physical interaction, but touch him gently, like he would someone he loved. Would Derek even be capable of gentleness? Of love?

Jackson wasn't sure. But suddenly, he was very curious to find out.

* * *

The hardest sense for Jackson to master was the sixth one (which thankfully was  _not_ seeing dead people). Derek called it instinct, but also said it was more than that. It was a sense of intuition, a pull or tug in his chest he wouldn't be able to explain. His other senses would help him, but it was this one that was going to lead him to the alpha.

To train this sense, Jackson had to find Derek. They started in the woods, and Derek told him they would eventually move on to using the entire town. He was allowed to use all of his senses to track him, but encouraged to try and focus on instinct more than anything.

It was easier said than done (as much with Derek was). It took Jackson almost an hour to pick up Derek's scent. He ran through the woods trying to track him, but he kept losing the scent and having to double back to pick it up again. He tried listening for him, but the woods were noisier than he would have expected. Which sounds were made by Derek and which were animals was often difficult to differentiate between.

Jackson began to move without thinking, taking turns for no reason and letting something he couldn't describe pull him forward. He ran like this for twenty minutes until he finally picked up a fresh scent. Then he stopped and listened, heard something close by and moving towards him. Derek, and he was headed his way. Jackson quickly climbed up the tree nearest to him, hiding in the foliage. He watched and waited, and in a few minutes Derek appeared underneath him. He stopped right under the tree that Jackson hid in, obviously smelling Jackson but not seeing him.

Before he thought to look up, Jackson jumped down and landed on Derek, knocking him flat on his back. He put his hands on Derek's chest, smiling at the surprise on Derek's face. "Found you," He said quietly. His heart beat quickly in his chest, and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He felt exhilarated.

Suddenly Derek flipped them both over, and Jackson found himself pressed back against the ground looking up at Derek, who smirked. "Good job," Derek said, holding Jackson's wrists above his head.

Without thinking, Jackson lifted his head and shoved his mouth against Derek's. He hadn't planned to, hadn't meant to... but god damn did he want to. Playing with Derek had been fun, but suddenly it was not enough. Jackson wanted more.

Jackson pulled back and looked at Derek, who once again wore surprise on his face. The idea of rejection hadn't initially occurred to Jackson, but it did now. That would be just like Derek to reject him, when they both knew that he wanted him. Grumpy, angry Derek couldn't have anything good in his life, lest it affect his grumpiness and anger.

"Well?" Jackson asked, when Derek just continued to stare at him. "Fucking say something,"

Instead of doing as Jackson demanded, Derek pressed his mouth roughly back against him in a hard kiss. He let go of Jackson's wrists and Jackson felt Derek slide his hands up his palm before their fingers entwined. Their noses bumped together as the hunger of their mouths grew, and Jackson moaned softly as Derek's tongue slipped wetly into his mouth. "Derek..."

Derek paused, his eyes flicking over Jackson's face. "Should I stop?" He asked. "Do you want me to stop?"

"God, no," Jackson muttered. He pulled his hands out of Derek's and wrapped his legs over Derek's waist before flipping them back over so he was once again on top. He smirked down at Derek before going in to kiss him again.

Derek's fingers dug into Jackson's hips as Jackson's mouth kissed from Derek's lips down to the lobe of his ear, biting and sucking on it. He moved down to Derek's throat and sucked a bruise into his skin, watched it heal over instantly. A strange desire came over him then, one he couldn't quite explain. He wanted a mark of his own, one that would last longer on his skin than it had on Derek's. He knew that was something only Derek could give him, and he wanted it all the more for that reason. Jackson smiled, and looked down at Derek. "Give me a hickey," He said.

Derek raised an eyebrow, then sat up, wrapping his arms around Jackson's middle and pulling Jackson into his lap. He kissed along Jackson's jaw and then his neck, bit lightly at the skin before sucking a mark into it. Jackson moaned again, running his fingers up through Derek's hair. The hickey would last for the rest of the day, maybe longer. Already he knew it wouldn't be enough. He felt Derek sigh against his skin. "You were doing it on purpose, weren't you?" He asked, tilting his head back.

"Doing what?"

"You know what," Derek gave him a look. Jackson smirked slightly, and shrugged. "Why?"

Jackson thought it over. He licked his lips, and then leaned in and bit lightly on Derek's lower lip. "Why not?" He whispered.

For now, that seemed good enough.


	2. Introduction to Lycanthropy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jackson continues his training, his relationship with Derek grows.

Part 2: Introduction to Lycanthropy

Somehow, Jackson had expected fooling around with Derek Hale to have a bigger impact on his life. He didn't know why, he just did. It was a surprise then, when nothing really changed. They continued to train as usual, with Derek doling out the least helpful advice possible and Jackson throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation.

There were some small changes. For one, Derek no longer seemed embarrassed by Jackson's attempts to flirt with him. Flirtatious actions and comments were now most often met with eye rolls and brush offs, though every so often Derek would flirt back, typically when Jackson least expected it and when it would throw him off the most.

Training began to end earlier and earlier. While sparring matches used to finish with Jackson pinned to the ground, pleading with Derek to get off him and let go, they now ended with the opposite. Jackson was still pinned to the ground, but now he begged Derek to never stop.

* * *

At first they would stay in the woods or the basement, wherever they happened to have been training that day. They would lie amongst the dirt and leaves and kiss, hands roaming over each other's bodies searching for flesh. When things began to progress beyond kissing, Jackson demanded they go someplace else. Derek's loft was an option, but Jackson worried that when Isaac and the others went there they would be able to smell what had transpired between them, and he was not okay with that. So instead they went to Jackson's house—neither of his parents were home during the day, and once they were they didn't have the supernatural senses to know what had happened.

It was after they began to have sex that Jackson really started to learn things about Derek. Little things at first, like the way Derek  _needed_ to cuddle after sex. The moment they finished he would wrap his arms around Jackson's chest and pull him in, holding him closely and tightly and nuzzling into Jackson's hair. Sometimes Jackson would lay on his back and Derek would rest against his chest, eyes closed as Jackson ran his fingers over Derek's back and arms, up through his hair and over his lips and jaw. The cuddling was addictive, and it wasn't long before Jackson found himself craving it as well.

He learned that sex also made Derek ravenously hungry. After hours in bed together, screwing and then cuddling and then screwing some more, they would raid Jackson's kitchen in their boxers, eating food right out of the container.

Once, Jackson sat on the counter with his legs around Derek's waist as Derek devoured a tub of cookie dough ice-cream. Every now and then Derek held the spoon up for Jackson to have some. When the ice-cream dripped down onto Derek's bare shoulder, Jackson had cleaned it off with his mouth. They'd begun to kiss, and Derek had wound up going down on him while Jackson continued to sit on the counter eating ice-cream.

For years and years afterwards, Jackson would not be able to eat cookie dough ice-cream without becoming overwhelmingly horny.

Some things he learned were more complicated. He learned that Derek was a very lonely person, with a deep craving for some kind of connection. He worried that his pack was falling apart, and that it was his fault because he had not been strong enough to keep them together. He worried that he was useless, and that he ruined everything he touched.

These things he told Jackson very late at night once, when he had snuck out to be with him. They'd gone to edge of the cliff in the forest, and sat together looking out over the dark town that Jackson would soon leave.

It had surprised Jackson, for Derek to open up to him in such a way. Surprised him to hear of the fear and the worry and the pain that resided under Derek's prickly, tough exterior. More than anything, it surprised him to hear something so very familiar to himself.

Jackson had told him in a quiet voice that he understood. That he as well worried if the world would not be better off without him. As the kanima had hurt so many, destroyed so many lives... even before, he had not been a good person. Did he deserve anything he had? Jackson didn't think so, and he worried he never would.

Derek and turned Jackson's face towards him and kissed him gently. Neither of them had the answers the other was looking for, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that more and more, Jackson was beginning to learn that Derek was nothing like the person he'd thought he was.

* * *

Two days before Jackson was supposed to leave, Derek asked him to stay. Not forever, just for the summer. Let his parents go to London and set up, and Jackson could follow along afterwards. Derek had space for him—owned a whole building with nothing but space.

Jackson agreed. For the summer, he would stay with Derek.

To continue his training, of course.

* * *

Staying with Derek meant essentially announcing their... relationship, to the rest of the pack, which Jackson not been overly keen to do. But they were going to find out eventually, so what the hell. Besides, in two months Jackson would never see these people ever again.

No one cared. Isaac was been skeptical at first, seeing as how they would all be living together, but a few tests assured him that so long as they stayed a few apartments over and he didn't intentionally listen in, he would not be able to hear any bedtime shenanigans. Erica wanted to know what sex with Derek was like. When Jackson and shrugged and said "alright," she'd punched him in the arm and called him a liar. Boyd wanted to make sure Jackson, legally being a minor, was not being taken advantage of. Jackson told him that while he appreciated his concern, Boyd should mind his own damn business.

Things continued in their usual manner. With school out, the rest of the pack began to train with Derek and Jackson, affording them a lot less time for fooling around during the day. Jackson would have minded, but he was having a pretty good time showing off in front of them—all that extra one-on-one training with Derek was finally paying off.

It was a hot summer, and since the basement was stuffy and un-airconditioned, they spent most of it training in the cool shade of the forest. Around mid day Derek would typically give them a break, and Erica, Boyd and Isaac would wander off to do their own thing. Jackson generally stayed behind for some alone time with Derek.

Jackson was lounging against a tree trunk, considering taking a nap when Derek nudged him with his foot. "Get up, time to start training again," He said.

Jackson groaned. "The others aren't even back yet," He complained.

"Point being?" Derek asked, raising his eyebrows. "Come on, up,"

Very reluctantly, Jackson got to his feet and tried to shake himself awake. "Are we doing something specific, or is this just another round of 'let's kick Jackson's ass?'"

Derek smiled. "You should really try and shake that defeatist attitude, Jackson," He said, raising his fists and getting ready to spar. "You're too young and pretty to be so cynical,"

Rolling his eyes, Jackson also raised his fists and got ready to be beaten up. "I agree," He said. "I am extremely pretty,"

Derek shook his head, and then thrust his fist out in a punch which Jackson easily dodged. Jackson moved around him quickly, using his speed and agility to his advantage. Unfortunately, Derek was also very fast and surprisingly agile, and Jackson wasn't able to dodge him for long. His punches came quickly, and Jackson blocked two out of three of them. The connecting punch landed on his jaw and sent Jackson sprawling backwards on the ground.

"Ooh, nice one!" Jackson heard Erica call as she, Boyd and Isaac sauntered back through the trees. Jackson groaned. Of course they'd show up just in time to see him get knocked on his ass. "Damn Derek, what'd he do to deserve that? You really have to work on those anger issues, man,"

Helping Jackson to his feet, Derek glared at her. "We were sparring," He said, sounding slightly defensive. Jackson wondered if Erica's insinuation that he'd intentionally gone out of his way to injure Jackson really bothered him.

"Sure," Erica said, drawing out the "u" sound to make the word sound as sarcastic as possible. "Sparring. Right, gotcha,"

The crease in Derek's brow deepened. Jackson put a hand on his shoulder. "You know she's fucking with you, right? She knows we were sparring, it's fine,"

Derek sighed. "Yes, I know she's fucking with me," He muttered. "That doesn't mean it's liked or appreciated," He pointed a finger at Erica. "Stop," He said. He sounded calm, which incidentally was always when he seemed the most dangerous as well.

Erica raised her hands. "I was done anyways," She said.

Shaking his head, Derek pointed to Isaac. "You take over," He said, gesturing from Isaac to Jackson.

Isaac nodded, and switched places with Derek. Inwardly, Jackson was relieved. Isaac was must easier to handle than Derek.

Jackson and Isaac fought for a little, moving around each other, dodging and blocking punches and trying to remember manoeuvres Derek had taught them at the same time. After what felt like eternity, Jackson was finally able to pin him on his back. He glanced over to Derek, and was rewarded with a small smile. He'd never admit how pleased that smile made him feel. Not in a million years, or on pain of death.

Boyd and Erica took their turn after Isaac and Jackson, giving them a chance to rest. Jackson stood by Derek's side watching the others fight. The hair on the back of Jackson's neck stood up when he felt Derek's hand on the small of back. He stiffened slightly, and glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he was doing. Slowly, Derek's hand rose, brushing against his back and coming to rest on the back of his neck. Jackson tried to keep his breathing normal, tried to pretend that every nerve in his body hadn't begun to tingle at the contact. They never did this, not in front of the others. What did it mean? And why was it that something as simple as Derek's hand on the back of his neck could get him so worked up?

In front of them, Boyd managed to pin Erica to the ground, and their fight ended. Derek gave them both small nods of approval. "Alright, that's enough for today," He said, removing his hand from Jackson's neck.

"Really?" Isaac asked, looking at Erica and Boyd as if wanting to confirm that they too hard heard what Derek had said. "We're ending early?"

Derek nodded. "I have something to do," He said.

Erica snickered slightly. "More like some _one,_ " She muttered under her breath.

"Shut up," Jackson snapped, stepping towards her as if he intended to fight her. Truthfully it was a bluff, and one he hoped she wouldn't call. He was already sort of tired from his fight with Isaac, and if Derek  _was_ ending training early to be with him, he wanted to save his energy for that.

"Oh, what are you going to do about it?" Erica asked, stepping up to meet him. "Get your boyfriend to beat me up?"

"Why let him have all the fun, I'll beat you up  _myself—_ "

Erica snorted, and opened her mouth to likely tell him to  _bring it on_ when Derek stepped between them. "Enough," He said, pushing Erica back. "I'm meeting with Deaton, this has nothing to do with Jackson," He said, to Jackson's disappointment. Derek gave Erica a stern look. "Not that that's  _any_ of your business," He told her.

Erica rolled her eyes, and walked off with Boyd and Isaac. Derek turned to Jackson. "Do you need a lift home?" He asked.

Jackson shook his head. "I've got my car," He said.

Derek nodded. "I'll call you when I'm back from Deaton's," He said. "You can come over, if you want,"

Jackson smiled, and pulled Derek towards him. "Oh, I want," He said. "I definitely want,"

* * *

It was a quiet, hot night. Jackson lay in bed with Derek in his arms, enjoying the feeling of the warm breeze coming in through the open window and the gentle thump of Derek's heart pressed close to his. But something was wrong. Jackson could smell it on him, the worry and frustration mingled with his scent, so much stronger than usual. And he could see it written on his face, in the crease of his brow and the turn of his mouth. Something was wrong, and if Derek wouldn't volunteer what it was, Jackson was going to have to start prying.

"Alright, come on," Jackson said, running his fingers through Derek's still-sweaty hair. "What is it?"

"What's what?" Derek mumbled, shifting slightly against Jackson.

"You know what," He said. "You're all grumpy. Why?"

"I'm not grumpy," Derek said in a aggressively grumpy manner. "That's just my face,"

"No, it's not. Look, don't you think I can tell the difference by now, between your usual grumpy face and your something-is-wrong grumpy face? Because I can. So just tell me what it is. I'm guessing your meeting with Deaton didn't go well?"

Derek sighed. "It went fine... he thinks he has a lead on an alpha in London. He's trying to get some more information, that might help you find her,"

"Her?"

"Deaton is pretty sure it's a her, yeah,"

"I thought I was supposed to use my _instinct_  to find the alpha," Jackson pointed out.

"You are, but it's not going to be easy. I've had Deaton asking around among his contacts, to try and find something that might help you narrow the search,"

"Oh... uh, thanks," Jackson said. Derek shrugged a shoulder. "So why is that got you all upset? It sounds like good news to me,"

"It is," Derek mumbled. "It's not that it's... he told me something else while I was there... something about Scott McCall,"

Jackson's lip curled slightly. "Oh yeah? Why, has something gone wrong in Mr. Perfects perfect life?"

Derek snorted slightly. "If you spent any time with Scott, I doubt you'd think he has a perfect life. That kid has a lot on his plate. If he'd just—"

"If he'd just join our pack then everything would be great for everyone because we'd all be somuch  _stronger_ together and blah blah blah," Jackson finished. "Is that about right?"

Derek glanced at Jackson, obviously unamused. "Yeah, that's pretty much it,"

"Well get over it, because he's made it clear that he thinks he's too good for us," Jackson muttered. Derek was quiet. "So what did Deaton tell you about Mr. Not-So-Perfet that's got your panties all twisted?"

Derek made a face. "My panties aren't twisted," He said. Jackson rolled his eyes. "Deaton thinks that Scot might be a true alpha, alright?"

"A what?"

Derek sighed. "Most alpha's, they get their power two ways. They either inherit it naturally from an elder alpha who has passed, like my sister Laura. Or, they steal it. Like Peter, or myself." Derek explained. "But in rare cases... a beta can rise to an alpha through the sheer strength of their will. They don't need to get the power from someone else, they just... have it. All on their own. And Deaton thinks Scott is one of those people,"

Jackson ground his teeth. "Oh,  _of course_ he is!" He cried. "Because fucking McCall is just so goddamned special isn't he? Christ, that's just—why the hell does this guy get everything? I just can't win, can I? He gets bitten, suddenly he's this big man on campus that everyone just loves. I get bitten and what to I get? Turned into a freakin' homocidal lizard is what! I lose everything, including my goddamned mind and now you're telling me McCall gets even more? Gets to be an alpha just because of his own perfect specialness? It's not fucking fair!"

Jackson breathed in deeply and shook his head. He was surprised by how bothered he was by this news. He thought he'd mostly moved past this, this weird jealousy over Scott. What did he care if Scott was popular and beloved? It wasn't as if those things mattered to him anymore. Friends, popularity, lacrosse... he hadn't thought about those things in months. That was part of his old life, the person he'd used to be. But now Scott would once again be more powerful than he could ever hope to be... it just didn't seem fair.

But what in life was?

Calming down from his rant, Jackson realized that Derek still looked miserable. "Derek?" He said gently. "Look, I mean I get why I'm upset about this but... don't you like Scott?"

"It's not that..."

"What, then?"

Derek glanced away. "They won't stay with me," He said quietly. "If... when Scott becomes an alpha... they'll choose him. I know they will,"

Jackson's brow furrowed. "What?" He asked. "You don't know that..."

"Yeah, I do," Derek replied. "I know,"

Jackson bit his lip. He wanted to insist that Derek was wrong, that he was sure Isaac, Erica and Boyd would be loyal to him no matter what, but the truth was that he  _wasn't_ sure. He knew Isaac was close with Scott, and if he had the option it was possible he'd choose him over Derek. What Erica and Boyd would do was less certain, but if Isaac went to Scott it seemed likely they would follow. And then Derek would be all alone. An alpha without a pack.

Unable to think of anything to say, Jackson leaned in a pressed a soft kiss against Derek's mouth. Derek lifted his hand to Jackson's cheek, holding him gently as they kissed. Jackson pulled back slightly and looked at him, and a sentence formed on his tongue. Jackson bit it back, unsure where the thought had come from. He swallowed, keeping his lips pressed together as if unsure what they would say if he allowed them to part.

For the rest of the night, Jackson lay in Derek's arms and thought over the promise he had almost made to Derek.  _I won't ever leave you._ He'd almost said that to Derek, and that frightened him. It was a promise he couldn't keep, and it would be cruel to say such a thing if he couldn't mean it.

But what truly frightened him was how badly he wished it to be true.

* * *

Derek began to get creative with their training. One day he handed them each an article of clothing, instructing them to use the scent to track the people the clothes belonged to and return them. They had the whole day to find them, until sunset.

"And if we win, what do we get?" Jackson asked.

"It's not a competition, Jackson," Derek said.

"Okay, sure," Isaac said. "But if we finish first, do we get a prize?"

Derek breathed in deeply. "No,"

"Aw, that's no fun," Erica complained. "Come on,"

"Yeah, come on Derek," Boyd added. "You gotta give us something,"

The furrow of Derek's brow increased, as if he was dismayed that Boyd had joined in. "Fine," He relented. "The winner gets ice-cream," He said, not seeming at all thrilled about this turn of events.

Jackson spent the day roaming the town, trying to catch the scent. There was something familiar about the scent of the blue plaid t-shirt he'd been given. He tried to recall who the scent belonged to, but it was difficult. He smelt so many things each day, it was hard to say who belonged to what.

When he finally picked up a trail it was late in the afternoon. He tracked it to a small neighbourhood not far from his own and followed it down the street and to a house. A car was parked in the driveway, and at the sight of it Jackson stopped. He looked down at the t-shirt in his hand, that he'd spent all day sniffing like some kind of lunatic.

He was going to kill Derek.

Jackson dug his phone out of his pocket and hit Derek's number. It rang once, and then Derek answered. "Are you there yet?" He asked.

"Yeah, and I'm going to  _kill you,_ " Jackson told him. "I can't believe I've spent the whole afternoon tracking down  _Stiles!_ "

Derek snickered. Jackson's resolve to kill him deepened. "Did you give it back to him yet?"

" _No,_ " Jackson retorted. "And I'm not going to,"

"Oh, yes you are," Derek said. "Or you lose. And we both know how much you hate to lose,"

Jackson ground his teeth. "Maybe I've evolved," He muttered. "I'm a different person now, you know. Dying and coming back to life does that to you,"

"You are different, Jackson," Derek said, an unexpected gentleness to his voice. "You've grown a lot, I can see that... but I'm willing to bet that the new and improved you still hates losing,"

Jackson said nothing, because Derek was right. "I hate you," He muttered after a minute. "So,  _so_ much,"

"See you soon," Derek said. Jackson could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

They hung up, and Jackson stared at Stiles' house. Deciding it would be better to get this over with quickly, he marched up the walk way and banged on the door before he could let himself think too long about it.

Jackson concentrated his hearing, trying to pick up where Stiles was in his house. "...probably just someone selling something. They'll go away if I ignore 'em," He heard Stiles say.

"You're just being lazy," Came the reply. Jackson's heart stopped in his chest.  _Lydia?_  "Answer the door.  _Maybe_ it's important,"

Stiles groaned, and Jackson heard footsteps coming towards him. He pulled open the door, and his brow furrowed when he saw Jackson standing there. "Jackson?"

Past Stiles, Jackson could see Lydia sitting on a couch, surrounded by old looking books. She looked up when Stiles said his name. "What are you doing here?" Stiles asked.

"Um, you—this is yours, right?" He said, holding out the shirt to Stiles. "Take it,"

"What's going on?" Lydia asked, approaching the doorway. She looked concerned. "Is everything alright,"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Jackson said. Realizing he was staring at Lydia, he looked away and instead concentrated on his shoes. "Just came by to give Stiles his shirt..."

"Which begs the question," Stiles said. "Why the _hell_  did you have my shirt?"

Jackson cringed slightly, and decided that the truth was probably his best bet. "Derek took it," He said. Obviously whatever Stiles had been expecting, that wasn't it. "It was a test... he took stuff from a few people around town, gave them to us and we had to track down whoever belonged to them,"

"Okay," Stiles said slowly, looking down at his shirt. "But why did he give you  _my_ shirt?"

Jackson sighed. "Because being an asshole tickles his fancy, that's why,"

Stiles seemed to accept this answer.

"So it's going well?" Lydia asked. Jackson was unable to stop himself from looking back up at her. She looked nice. Of course she did, being Lydia, she always looked nice. "Training with Derek's pack? It's working out?"

Jackson shrugged. "It's... yeah, it's alright,"

"I can't believe Derek is anything resembling a good teacher," Stiles said.

Jackson hesitated. "He uh... has his moments,"

"I heard your parents left for London," Lydia said. "How come you didn't go with them?"

Jackson scratched his head, trying to think of a way out of this conversation. Seeing her now, it was impossible to deny that he missed Lydia. She had been everything to him for so long, everything that had been important to him... but it was too much. Seeing her, talking to her... it just reminded him of everything he had lost. Lydia was a walking, breathing representation of his old life, the person he'd once been... the person who had died.

Muttering something about continuing training by way of response, Jackson stepped away from them. "So, I uh... I have to go now," He said, looking away.

"Jackson wait," Lydia said, stepping after him. "Can we catch up? Meet for coffee sometime and talk?" She asked. Almost against his will, Jackson looked at her. Her eyes were soft and sad. Jackson hated to see her so sad, and hated that he was the cause of it. "I miss you,"

Jackson shook his head, turning away once more. "It's not a good idea," He said. Then he left.

As he walked away, he wondered how many more times he would have to let Lydia down before she finally gave up on him.

* * *

Jackson was surprised to find he was the first one back to the clearing. He arrived a full ten minutes before Erica, who came back looking as irritated as Jackson felt.

"I guess this means I lost, huh?" She asked, walking into the forest. Derek nodded and Erica scowled. "Great, so I had to talk to Cordie fucking Summers for no reason, brilliant,"

Jackson smiled slightly. "The dress was Cordie's?" He asked. Cordie Summers was one of Lydia's arch-nemesis' from school, a bright and bubbly girl who was often her main competition for things like Prom Queen and student council.

"Yeah, and let me tell you she was  _very_ concerned about why I had it," Erica replied.

Boyd and Isaac showed up shortly after, walking into the forest together. They too had been given the clothing of people they were less than happy to be interacting with. "Maybe if we all charge him together, we'll have a chance at taking him down," Erica suggested.

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him. "I would seriously advise against it," He warned.

* * *

As had been promised, Derek took Jackson out for ice-cream, as a reward for making it back first. Under normal circumstances Jackson would have immensely enjoyed the whole situation. He'd finally come first in something werewolf related, finally proven himself as the best in at least this one, stupid thing. And now he was standing with Derek in some cutesy little old-fashioned ice-creams shop, waiting to order. In his leather jacket and with his usual grumpy expression on his face, Derek looked comically out of place amongst the pink walls and white furniture.

Jackson was still too caught up in himself to even muster a comment when Derek ordered himself a simple strawberry cone. When asked what he wanted, he simply glanced at the menu and ordered whatever the flavour of the day was.

They got their ice-cream and went outside. "Let's walk around for a bit," Derek suggested.

"Why?"

"Because you're not taking that ice-cream cone into my car," Derek replied. "And because I want to talk to you,"

"Oh," He mumbled. He tried some of his ice-cream, just to have an excuse to say nothing more. It tasted like butter pecan, and was actually pretty good.

"So are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or am I going to have to force it out of you?" Derek asked.

Jackson frowned. "What?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Don't play stupid, Jackson. There's something wrong, tell me what it is. Didn't being forced to talk to Stilinski upset you  _that_ much?"

Jackson slid his eyes from Derek to the ground. "No," He mumbled. "It wasn't that..."

"Well, what then?"

Jackson was quiet for a moment. "Lydia was there," He said eventually.

Derek nodded, and took a bite out of his ice-cream cone. "Are you still... do you still have feelings for her?" He asked. The question was posed casually, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Derek staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Jackson shook his head. "It's not that either," He said. It may have been his imagination, but he thought he heard Derek let out a breath. "I, I don't know. It's just...  _Lydia,_ I guess. I mean, she used to be kind of everything to me, and I let her down so much... I guess she just reminds me of how I've failed, and how awful a person I was," He looked at the ground. "She deserves better, but I think she still wants me anyways," He looked up again, at Derek, and felt a sinking in his chest. "So do you,"

Derek raised an eyebrow, and stopped walking. He put his hand on the nape of Jackson's neck, stroking his skin gently with his thumb. "You're enough, Jackson," He said. "I don't need anything else,"

He opened his mouth to say that Derek didn't really mean that, that he was just saying it to comfort him. But then he realized that Derek  _wouldn't_ just say that. He would only say it if it were true.

Jackson stepped closer to Derek, who slid his hand from the back of Jackson's neck to his jaw, cupping his face gently. Then he leaned in and kissed him. His mouth tasted faintly of strawberry ice-cream, and Jackson wondered if this would be another flavour forever ruined for him. He thought so.

When he pulled away, Jackson felt slightly breathless. Maybe it was the fact that it was in public, with all of Beacon Hills watching... maybe it was the ice-cream, or the effect of Derek's words. Jackson wasn't sure what it was, but somehow this kiss felt different, different than all the times they'd pressed their mouths together before. He wanted to say something, tell Derek what he meant to him the way Derek had just told him. "You... I..."

Derek put a hand on Jackson's shoulder, the smallest of smiles on his face. "I know, Jackson," He said. "Don't worry, I know."


	3. Advanced Lycanthrope

There was one week left before Jackson boarded a plane to London and met up with his family. Exactly one week before his relationship with Derek came to an end. Thinking about it, Jackson wasn't sure what felt more surreal; the fact that soon their relationship would end, or the fact that it had existed in the first place. Had he really spent the last few months fucking Derek Hale? If it had just been fucking, then perhaps he could almost believe it. But he knew it had been a lot more than that as well. Had all of it seriously been real? Lying in Derek's bed at night, in his arms and telling him every fear he had, every worry for the future he'd kept inside for as long as he could remember?

The relationship played across his mind as if he were viewing a series of snapshots: lying underneath Derek in the woods and kissing him for the first time; sitting on the counter in his kitchen eating cookie dough ice-cream while Derek went down on him; holding Derek late at night and wishing he could promise him he would never leave him.

It had been real. Jackson knew that. It might have been the most real thing he'd ever felt.

* * *

“I'm telling you, it makes more sense to get the big box full of little bags than it does to just get the one big bag,” Derek said, putting the enormous box of chips back into the cart, despite Jackson just having removed it. “If you take the big bag, it's going to take up all the room in your backpack. If you take a few little bags, you'll save room,”

“But then who's going to get the 20 bags of chips I _don't_ take with me?” Jackson protested. “It's a waste,”

Derek snorted. “With Isaac around? Trust me, Jackson, the chips will get eaten,”

Jackson looked back and forth between the family size bag of Doritos in his hand, and the enormous box of snack bags that Derek had placed in the cart. He sighed. “Alright, you win,” He muttered, putting the bag back. “I'll take the little bags,” 

“Of course you're going to take the little bags,” Derek said, pulling the family sized bag out of Jackson's hands and putting it back on the shelf. “It's the logical choice,”

Jackson rolled his eyes, and steered his cart over to the check out aisle. At the cash, they argued over who was going to pay. Jackson insisted he be the one to pay since they were _his_ friggin' groceries, not to mention he had his Dad's credit card which basically meant endless money. Derek argued that _he_ should be the one to pay, because he said so. After a lot of back and forth, Jackson finally won and charged the groceries to his Dad's account.

As he paid, the girl behind register smiled brightly at him. 

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing,” She said, handing Jackson his receipt. “You two just make a really adorable couple, is all,”

* * *

“Alright, let's go over the list one more time,” Derek said. “You have your passport and ticket, right?”

They were standing in the middle of the airport, people bustling to and fro all around them. Derek stood with his hand clasped firmly on Jackson's shoulder, as if he was worried Jackson might run off at the first opportunity. Jackson had no such desire.

Jackson's eyes went wide. “Holy fuck, my passport!” He cried, feigning horror. “I left that back at your loft! Shit it was right next to my ticket, inside my luggage, which I also left. Damn. 

Derek looked unimpressed. “So that means you've got it?”

“Yes, Derek, I've got it,”

“Good,” Derek glanced to the side, and then pulled Jackson in for a kiss. It was only the second time Derek had ever kissed him in public, and it caught Jackson off guard. Derek pulled back quickly, and looked away again. “Sorry, I just—”

Jackson shook his head. “Don't apologize,” He said, pulling Derek back towards him. He pressed his mouth against him, kissing him as hard as he could. He felt like he needed to make this kiss count, to kiss Derek for every time he wouldn't be able to again. Jackson had a lot of regrets, about things he done and things he hadn't, and as he stood there kissing Derek he wondered if leaving him would turn out to be the biggest.

They pulled apart, and Jackson felt like he couldn't breathe. He wanted to reach into his pocket and pull out his ticket, rip into a thousand pieces and throw it away. He wanted to tell Derek he would never leave him, because they were meant for each other. And sure, Jackson was young and he was stupid and all he ever did was ruin everything, but he knew it was true anyways. Everything that had happened that summer, every moment since he'd woken up coughing ashes in Derek's burnt up old house told him it was true. They'd been made to find each other, find each other through everything terrible thing that had ever happened, they'd made it through all of it just to be together. Jackson knew it like a fact of life. Fire was made to burn, and snow was made to melt and Jackson had been made for Derek to kill, and to love and to be with for fucking ever.

And now Jackson was going to walk away from all of it.

“Promise you're not gonna forget me, alright?” Jackson mumbled. “Of all the people you ever kill, I want to be the most special, okay?”

Derek looked at him, love and heartbreak and the whole tragedy of the situation written all over his face. “You will be,” He promised. Jackson smiled, and leaned in for one last kiss. “Promise me something, too,” Derek said. Jackson looked at him. “You're always so quick to remind everyone that you died... that I killed you... sometimes I think you forget something,”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “What's that?”

“You died, Jackson,” Derek said. “But you came back,” Derek reached up, and brushed a piece of hair off Jackson's forehead. “Try and remember that, alright? You're alive, Jackson. So promise me when you get to London, you'll live,”  
  
Jackson nodded. “Alright,” He said, wondering how the hell he was ever going to accomplish that. “I'll live,”

Derek smiled at him, the sad broken smile of someone who was used to being left behind by those he loved. He kissed Jackson once more, very gently. And that was all.

 

 

**ONE YEAR LATER**

 

 

 

Jackson raced through the kitchen, grabbing and apple from the counter and his backpack from the floor. “Back after dinner!” He called, heading to the front door.

“Wait, wait!” his mother called, rushing after him. “Where are you going and who will you be with?”

Jackson rolled his eyes, begrudgingly halting at the door. “Training session with the pack, at Norths,” He said 

“Oh,” She said. “So you're going to be seeing Chanda?”

“Well, since she is my alpha, and is this a pack training session,” Jackson said slowly. “Yeah, I'd guess she'd be there.” 

Jessica Whittemore was not impressed. “You could just say yes, you know,”

“Mom, come on, I'm already late—”

“Just tell her that the sale's been moved from this Sunday to next,” She said. “And I called and asked and they will have that nail polish she likes, so we should go early in case it sells out,”

Jackson groaned. It wasn't that he had a problem with the fact that his mother had befriended his alpha, it was just... well, it was just weird. “Right, I'll tell her,” He said. His mother began to say something else, but he was already out the door.

He was meeting his pack at the community centre by their college, where six of them went to school and their alpha, a muslim woman named Chanda Kapoor, worked as a professor, teaching history. They typically met up three or four times a week for training, and this was the third time this week that Jackson was late.

When he raced into the gym, every member of his pack was already there, busy sparing and training.

“You're late,” Chanda said, striding over as Jackson set his bag down.

“I know, but—”

She held up a hand. “Don't bother, Whittemore. Save your stories for creative writing, I'm sure Professor Lewis would appreciate them more than I,” She crossed her arms, and looked him over. “Go spar with Caitlyn,” 

Jackson nodded. “Uh, also, my mom said to tell you the sale was moved to next Sunday,” 

Chanda's face fell slightly, shifting from disdain to slightly child-like disappointment. “Was it? That's a shame, I was looking forward...”

“Yeah, but she said they'll have that nail polish you like, so you guys should go early,”

“Oh?” She said, perking back up slightly. “Well, at least there's that then...” She looked pleased for a moment, and then turned stern again. “Sparring, now. And thank you for relaying the information, give Jessica the best from me, will you?”

Jackson nodded, and muttered that he would. He went over to the blond girl stretching by the mirror. “Hey,” he greeted.

She nodded in response. “Boss lady chew you out?” She asked.

Jackson shrugged. “Not much,” He said. “I've gotten worse,”

Caitlyn grinned. “Bet you have,” She said. She put up her fists and got into position. “Come on then,”

“Loser buys drinks after,” He said, readying himself to fight. Caitlyn nodded, and they began. Jackson had come far in his year in London, and his fighting had improved immensely. It used to be that he struggled to spar while recalling what techniques to use. Now it all came naturally. Anticipating his opponents moves, knowing what to use to block and counter their attack.

Although Jackson would always hesitate to call Derek a “good” teacher, he had turned out to be... effective. When he'd begun training with Chanda's pack, his skills had been on level with everyone else's, despite them having been werewolves for longer than he had. And while Chanda proved to be a tough teacher, and a stern alpha, she would never be anywhere close to Derek's level of irritating difficulty. 

Jackson decided that was more or less a good thing.

  
“Hey, did I hear you're going around with that new guy, Jordan something?” Caitlyn asked, dodging Jackson's punch and moving around to counter.

“His name is Jared, and no we're not together,” Jackson replied, grabbing her leg as she tried to hit him with a high kick. She pivoted and bent her knee, then smacked him in the face with her elbow. Jackson put her in a chokehold, which she got out of by lifting him up, throwing him over her shoulder and slamming him into the floor. “Ow,”

“Why not?”

“Don't know,” Jackson said, grunting the words as he and Caitlyn struggled together. Finally he was able to get on top of her, and pinned her to the ground. “We're just not,”

“Stupid,” Caitlyn grunted, not able to get much more out in her current position.

Truth be told, she wasn't wrong. Jackson knew his reasons for not getting into anything serious with Jared—who was by all accounts a perfectly nice, and definitely sexy guy—were pretty stupid. Stupid, in the sense that he didn't really have any reasons. He just... didn't want him.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. Jackson had gone around with a few people over the last year—mostly men, which he was discovering he preferred—but none of them had turned into anything worth mentioning. 

At times, Jackson pretended he didn't know why. Maybe none of them had been right for him, maybe he just preferred to be single...

But that was all bullshit, and he knew it.

After a few more minutes of struggling together, Caitlyn finally tapped out, and Jackson let her go. She sighed, and picked herself up. “So later, at Dameron's Pub?” He asked, grinning. Caitlyn glared, at nodded stiffly. “Nice. Hey, guys,” He said, signalling to the rest of the pack. “We're meeting at Dameron's later, drinks on Cait!”

The others cheered and whooped, and Caitlyn's eyes turned a blazing yellow. “Whittmore, you snake!” She said. Jackson's smile dropped slightly for a second. “I never said I'd treat everyone!”

Jackson shrugged. “Sorry, must have misunderstood,” He said. “I—” Jackson froze, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. Something came over him, a strange sensation—no, a scent. He'd caught the scent of someone who'd just walked into the room.

“Holy guacamole,” Caitlyn standing, looking at something behind Jackson. “Who the hell is _that?_ ”

Jackson didn't have to turn around to know. He was surprised he hadn't recognized his scent the moment he'd walked into the building. Or hell, the country.

He turned around slowly anyways, barely trusting what his other senses were telling him was true until he saw him with his own eyes. That was a human trait, Derek always said. Only believing something when you saw it with your eyes. Stupid, really, to only believe in what you can see.

Still, it wasn't until Jackson turned around and saw Derek standing there across the room, talking to Chanda, that the breath truly left his lungs.

“You know him?” Caitlyn asked, eyes moving over Jackson's face and reading what was probably a very stunned expression. Jackson swallowed. “Oh, you _know_ him?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said. “I know him,” 

* * *

Jackson walked down the street next to Derek, feeling slightly numb and surreal. He had no idea to say to Derek, how to act or what to do. He hadn't heard from Derek in over six months, not a single word. And sure, they hadn't communicated a lot once Jackson had moved to London, but for the first few months there had been the occasional e-mail or phone call, an update on how the other was doing. And then, suddenly, there had been nothing.

Part of Jackson was furious. He wanted to shout and scream at Derek that he had no right to show up here like this, no right to just waltz back into his life as easily as he'd tap danced out of it. He wanted to tell him to get back on the first flight to Beacon Hills, and never again do any kind of dance in to or out of his life again.

The other part of Jackson just wanted to kiss him. Desperately. 

“Jackson?” 

“Hmm?" 

Derek raised an eyebrow, and Jackson realized he must have said something to him. “Oh, uh, what?” 

“I said Chanda, she seems nice,” Derek said. “She's a good alpha?” 

“Oh, yeah, she's great,” Jackson said. Once, Jackson thought, he would have teased him. _A better alpha than you..._ Somehow, it didn't feel right now. “The whole pack is,” 

Derek nodded, and put his hands in his pockets. “Good,” He said. “That's... good...”

There was a moment of silence which seemed to stretch out towards eternity. Jackson hated this, this strange awkwardness between them. How did you get over that, make it go away? Could he just chose to ignore it? Somehow he doubted it. 

“So, how long are you in town for?” Jackson asked, just out of desperation for something to say. 

Derek shrugged. “Oh, you know,” He said. Another shrug. Jackson stared at him, and waited for a more definitive answer. None came, and another silence followed. Jackson thought it was going to drive him crazy.

They walked on for few more minutes, and just as Jackson was seriously beginning to consider screaming at him, just to fill the fucking silence, someone called Jackson's name.

“Jackson, hey, wait up!”

Jackson turned around, and almost groaned. “Oh, hey, Jared,” Jackson said, running his fingers through his hair.

Jared smiled at him, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. “Hey,” He said. His eyes flickered over to Derek. “Whats up?” 

Jackson shrugged. “Nothing, just, um...” He noticed that Jared was looking at Derek again. “This is Derek, my—he's my friend, from back home. Derek, this is Jared,”

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” Jared said, extending his hand politely. Derek looked at it, and at Jackson, and then back at Jared again before shaking it.

“So, I'll see you later then, I guess?” Jared said, still eyeing Derek.

“Yeah,” Jackson replied. “See you later,”

Jared nodded, and walked off. Derek watched him go. “He seems nice,” Derek said, once Jared was out of sight. “How long has that been going on?” 

Jackson glared at him, and started off down the street. “It's not,” He said. 

Derek snorted. “Clearly there was something there,” He said, trailing after Jackson. “It's fine, Jackson. It's not like I expected you to wait for me,” Jackson gritted his teeth, and said nothing. “I mean, I was with someone, too,”

Jackson stopped in his tracks and whipped around. _“What?”_ He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Somehow, in all the time he'd missed him, the possibility of Derek being with another person had never occurred to him. A horrible thought came over him then, something that had never before crossed him mind: had Derek moved on?

Derek glanced away. “I just mean, it's fine if you've moved on,” He said. “I have,”

Well, that answered that.

Jackson didn't know how to respond. He felt as if he needed a moment to compose himself, to figure out how he was feeling and what he wanted to say. Instead of doing that, and trying to come up with a mature response to the difficult situation, he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “I've been with loads of people,”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, it's not just Jared,” Jackson retorted. “First there was Oscar, and then John and Daisy, and then Oscar again because he was _really_ good,” He said. “And then a few others, who I can't remember. Jared's just the latest in a long line,” He crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

Derek's eyes flashed red for a second. “Her name was Braeden, she's a druid. Incredibly resourceful, and beautiful. We dated for months,”

“Well, good,” Jackson spat. “Frickin' fantastic. Well I wish you and Braeden all the best, I really do. She sounds like a real keeper. Go get married and have creepy little half druid half werewolf babies together!”

Derek looked away. “This has been fun, Jackson, but I didn't come all this way just to see you,” He said. “I've got things to do, so...”

“Great,” Jackson snapped. “Go do them then," 

With one last, furious look, Derek turned around and walked off down the busy London streets. Jackson watched him go, hating himself with every step. 

* * *

“And then, I said 'so go get married and have creepy little half druid half werewolf babies together!'” Jackson mumbled. He took another sip of beer. “And he left,”

Caitlyn nodded, giving him look that was part sympathy, part pity. “Well it sounds like it was a _very_ mature conversation,” She said, patting him on the back.

Jackson looked glumly at his drink. “Not really, no,” He muttered. “His fault though, he started it. Stupid bastard, how dare he move on,” He took another drink, and not for the first time that year, desperately wished he could actually get drunk. 

Caitlyn sighed, and took a sip of her own drink. “Men, you're all so bloody thick,”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “That's a funny way of cheering me up,”

“Jackson, Derek didn't come all the way to London just to tell you he moved on,” Caitlyn said. “That doesn't make any sense! Think about it with your adult brain, for a moment,”

Jackson frowned. “Yeah, but he also said he didn't come all the way here just for me,” He said. “he said he had other things to do,”

“My guess,” Caitlyn said. “Would be that he lied,”

“You... think so?” Jackson said slowly. He thought over their exchange. Everything had been fine—albeit awkward—until Jared had shown up. That's when Derek had said what he did about moving on... was it possible he'd only said he'd moved on because he thought Jackson had? “Fuck, I'm such an idiot,”

Caitlyn nodded. “Mmhmm, yes,” She agreed. “Absolutely,”

* * *

 When Derek pulled open the door to his hotel room, he looked genuinely surprised to see Jackson standing there. “Jackson, what—” He looked around, although Jackson was unsure what for. “How did you find me?”

“Are you kidding?” Jackson asked. “After all that time we spent training to find the alpha back in Beacon Hills? I could find you anywhere,” He stepped closer, and poked his finger against Derek's chest. “See? Found you,” 

Derek looked away. “Jackson, I... we...”

“I'm coming in,” Jackson said, moving past Derek. “We have some things to talk about,”

“Yeah?” Derek asked, closing the door behind him. “Like what?" 

Jackson breathed in deeply. “When I said I'd been with lots of people this year, that wasn't a lie,” He said. “I really have been,” 

Derek folded his arms over his chest. “You came all the way here just to tell me that?” He asked.

“Yes. No!” Jackson said. “What I mean is... I was with so many different people because... because no one person ever stuck. So I just moved on from one person to another...” He waved his hand. “It was never anything serious. I never wanted anything serious, never wanted to start something real. And I told myself it was for a lot of different reasons but I think—well, I know—that the truth is...” He swallowed. “It's because this whole time, I've been waiting for you. And maybe I shouldn't have... but I did,”

Derek looked skeptical. “So... Jared...?”

“Was nothing serious,” Jackson finished. “He was nice... but he was nothing...” He stepped closer to Derek. “Nothing compared to you,” He looked up at Derek, and found him searching his face, as if looking to find the truth written on it. “Listen to my heart beat if you don't believe me,”

“I believe you,” Derek said. Jackson smiled, but it slipped away a moment later. “I never wanted you to wait for me. I wanted you to move on... I tried to...”

“Oh,” Jackson said, feeling ill. “Right, okay...” He stepped away, but Derek pulled him back. 

“I said I tried,” Derek said. “I didn't say I was successful,”

Jackson pulled Derek towards him and shoved his mouth against him, kissing him fiercely. It was just like the first time; he hadn't meant to do it, hadn't even realized he was going to until their lips were pressed together and his hands were in Derek's hair. And suddenly a whole year was gone, and they had never been apart, not even for a moment.

Jackson had meant what he said, about wanting to talk. He had questions he wanted to ask, things he needed to know. He'd gone to Derek with the intention of having a mature, adult conversation. Sorting out how they felt about each other, and what Derek's arrival in London meant.

All of that was forgotten as they tore off each other's clothing and collapsed on the bed.

* * *

 The smell of something sweet roused Jackson from his sleep. “Derek...?” He murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking around. On the desk next to the bed he saw trays of food: pancakes, french toast and blueberry waffles, along with different toppings and syrups. He frowned, and looked at the clock next to the bed. It was only four in the morning.

“Hey, you're awake...” Derek said, walking out of the bathroom.

“Little early for breakfast, isn't it?” Jackson asked. Derek took a seat on the edge of the bed and leaned in for a long, deep kiss. His mouth tasted like maple. “You started without me,”

Derek pulled back, and grinned. “Sorry, got hungry,” He said. He went over to the desk and brought the trays over to the bed, before climbing in next to Jackson.

“How did you get them to make all of this at four in the morning?” Jackson asked. “Isn't all the staff sleeping?”

“The menu said twenty four hour room service,” Derek replied, putting some fruit on a pancake before rolling it up in a burrito and all but shoving it in his mouth. Jackson laughed and Derek smiled at him, then leaned in for another kiss. He still had syrup on his lips, and the kiss was sticky and sweet.

“Let me guess, that's why you chose this hotel,” Jackson said, picking up a blueberry and popping it in his mouth.

“I swear I picked it at random,” Derek said. “It is nice, though," 

“Should I try asking again how long you're in town for?” Jackson asked.

The smile slipped slightly on Derek's face, and he glanced away. “Well... that depends...” He said.

“On...?”

“On... this,” He said, looking at Jackson. “On you. How long do you want me to stay?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Well, forever, obviously,” He said. “But I mean realistically speaking,” Derek shrugged, and Jackson furrowed his brow. “Derek, what's going on?” 

“Did you try the waffles?” Derek asked, tearing off a corner and eating it. “Because they're good,”

“Derek—”

Derek clenched his jaw, and looked away. “They left me,” He said quietly. “Isaac, Erica and Boyd... they left. Just like I knew they would.”

Jackson put a hand on Derek's shoulder. “What happened?” He asked.

“About six months ago, Scott became an alpha,” Derek mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “And Isaac chose him,” 

“I'm sorry,” Jackson said, wishing he could say something more. Something that was actually helpful to Derek, although he wasn't sure that such a thing existed. He was going to kill Isaac the next time he saw him. Or maybe call Danny, and have him do it for him, since he was in closer proximity. “And Erica and Boyd?”

“They graduated early, and went travelling before they go to school... in New York,"

“Well, they didn't leave _you_ then,” Jackson said. “They just... left town.”

“Either way, they left,” 

Jackson rubbed his back.“I'm sorry, Derek,” He said again, because it was the only thing he had to say. “I'm really sorry,”

Derek shrugged. “It's alright, I mean everyone has to move on eventually...” 

Jackson gave him a look. “Come on, it's me. You don't have to do that,”

The look in Derek's eyes made Jackson's heart break. “I failed,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I failed them all,”

“You didn't fail, alright? This is just life...” Jackson said. “Things happen. Things we can't control, things that are... really, really shitty. But you pick yourself up, and you move on. You keep living,” He pressed his lips against Derek's cheek, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just like you told me, remember?”

“I don't think I said all of that,” Derek mumbled.

“Yeah, well... I also had some input from therapist Dr. Richard Nygard," 

“Hmm, how's that going?” 

“Good, actually,” Jackson said.

“Well, that's good,” Derek said. He looked up at Jackson. “Jackson, I know it's not fair for me to just come back into your life like this but... I just thought, if there was any chance that there was something still between us... I thought maybe I could...”

Jackson stared at him. “Doesn't it make more sense to go to New York?” He asked, unsure even as he said it as to why he was saying it. “Stay with Erica and Boyd, be a pack there. I mean, there's two of them and only one of me,”

Obviously this was not the response Derek was looking for. Jackson saw his jaw clench. “Yeah, I guess that makes more sense,” He said. “I just thought—” He shook his head. “I don't know what I thought,” He turned away.

Jackson opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He wasn't sure exactly how to word what he was feeling. “Sometimes... I think we're too similar,” He said. Derek furrowed his brow. “You and me, we're too much alike... and it worries me,”

“I thought you said you hadn't moved on,” Derek said, still not making eye contact.

“I haven't, but that's not the point,” Jackson said. “Derek, when we got together last summer... I was miserable.” Derek looked up sharply. “No, fuck—I meant I was miserable, and then we got together. After dying, after being the kanima... I hated myself. And waking up every day and living my life, it was like torture. Until we got together. When I was with you, I was finally—I felt like myself again. But I also felt like I could get away from everything, from my problems and my life and all the bullshit. When we together, it felt like it was just me and you, and nothing else mattered. And you were right.”

Derek looked at him, and Jackson put a hand on his shoulder. “What you said to me, before I left. That I wasn't living? You were right. I wasn't living my life, I was running from it. And you—you gave me somewhere to run to. But I did what you said. I started to live. I mean, things haven't been great in the romance department but other than that I'm doing pretty good. I'm doing sports again, I've made friends... I feel good. Better than I have in a long time, actually,”

Derek swallowed. “And you're worried I'll get in the way of that?” He asked. He didn't sound angry, or even bitter. And Jackson knew that if he said yes, Derek would walk away without another word. It was just who he was. 

“No,” Jackson said. “I'm worried that you're running, and I've just given you somewhere to run to,” He paused. “And if we're going to be together, I want you to be with me because you want _me._ Not because you want an excuse to hide from the world. I won't be that for you, Derek.”

Derek nodded. “So, this past year, you've been doing good?” He asked. Jackson nodded. “Maybe you could show me how that's done,” He said. “It's... probably past time that I started to live, too.”

Jackson smiled. “Yeah,” He said. “I could probably teach you a thing or two,” He leaned in, and pressed his lips against Derek's. “Welcome to Living 101.”

 

* * *

 “The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved;  
loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves.”  
— _Victor Hugo, Les Miserables_

 

 


End file.
